


I Do What I Want

by ohanotherday



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24102889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohanotherday/pseuds/ohanotherday
Summary: Peter decides he might as well try his luck at The Jungle. Apparently, Stiles had the same idea.Peter attempts to be a good, moral adult, but Stiles is persistent, and Peter has never been that good at morals.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Kudos: 152





	I Do What I Want

**Author's Note:**

> It’s quarantine time, and I’ve been reading Peter/Stiles fics nonstop. I decided to check if I had any Peter/Stiles fics in my google drive, and I have a few. This was written in 2012 and just never posted because I’m a gem! The title comes from the song [ “Such Language” by DJ Donna Summer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZOA0qMU52wU), because I finally have a fic where this song is the right vibe. Also, this fic is based off a TFLN (Texts from last night). Is that even still a thing?

With the current predicament of recently coming back from the dead and the refusal to leave Beacon Hills simply to find someone to have sex with, Peter Hale shuffled through the crowds. While he had known his sexual orientation before the Hale fire, he had yet to visit a gay bar in Beacon Hills. Before he had gone into a comatose state, “The Jungle” had been a record store. However, it was now serving a very specific clientele.

Peter rolled his eyes at the men in the room. The fact that none were yelling that he used to be in a coma showed that many of them were both a) too young to watch the news and b) too drunk. Picking up a one night stand had never been this difficult, but then again, being in a vegetative state does put a damper on one’s ability to flirt.

Peter could easily charm a few nurses, one a disillusioned recluse, another an overworked, single mother. Melissa had been remarkably easy to bewitch, but she had been poorly neglected by any suitors. Peter shook his head. There was no reason Scott should be so upset that Peter wanted to pursue her. He had no intentions of wanting to be Scott’s new stepfather…though that could’ve been the issue.

Peter sipped from his drink, eyeing the younger men grinding on the floor. They wouldn’t be expecting romance, but Peter hadn’t spotted one who he wanted to mingle with. He grunted when someone knocked into him. His drink slipped, and he allowed the glass to shatter on the ground. He was ready to throw the offending person to the other side of the room, stopping only when he noticed it was Stiles. Peter blinked a few times at him.

A smile stretched out across Peter’s face. “Are you wearing glitter? And lipstick?”

“Huh?” Stiles raised a hand to his face. “Probably. Roxy was trying to give me pointers.”

Peter eyed the lipstick stains still visible on Stiles’ lips. “Aren’t you underage?”

Stiles lifted his own drink to his lips. “Apparently that doesn’t stop people.”

Peter took the drink out of Stiles’ hands, sniffing it once to see if there were any drugs in it before taking a sip. While he didn’t mind if the youth of today got drugged or not, he wanted to stay as sober as possible. Peter spared a glance at Stiles, already creating a story in case Stiles got suspicious: Stiles might not be in Derek’s pack, but he was still a valuable asset. And it really wouldn’t do to hear news about how the sheriff’s underage son got drugged at a gay bar. This place would be closed down in a second, and Peter needed this place to get an easy lay.

“Dude!” Stiles reached for his glass. “That’s mine, er.” Stiles paused when Peter took another sip. “Or you can try some,” he grumbled.

“You knocked my drink out of my hands,” Peter reminded him.

“Oh.” Stiles glared at the floor before glaring at Peter. “Well that was still my drink.”

Peter glanced over at him. “How did you buy it?”

Stiles grinned. “I didn’t.”

Peter groaned before grabbing Stiles’ arm. He didn’t need to hear any more stories about reckless underage youths getting hit on by older men. Peter reached for his best acting skills, doing his best to act like if Stiles wasn’t out of the club and safe at home, some of the actual pack members might hold Peter responsible. Most pack members would _probably_ hold Peter responsible regardless of Stiles’ fate, but Peter had come to accept that he didn’t care what a bunch of teenagers thought of him.

“Ow, ow, ow, I wouldn’t grab me like that if I were you.”

“Why?”

Stiles nodded ahead of them, redirecting Peter’s attention to a group of drag queens. “Sweetheart?” An overly made up drag queen came over and petted Stiles’ head. “Are you okay?”

Stiles smirked, tilting his head onto Peter’s shoulder as he wrapped an arm around Peter’s waist. “Yeah. Just a jealous boyfriend.”

The drag queen gave Peter an appraising state before walking away. Once outside, Stiles still hadn’t let go of Peter, who was feeling increasingly annoyed that he suddenly now had to play babysitter. He didn’t think that Stiles was that far gone, but now the whole night felt like a waste.

“We should fuck,” Stiles blurted out.

“What?”

“We should fuck.” Stiles nodded his head, willing Peter to agree. “Think about it. What happens if you meet someone who asks too many questions? Or decides they’re in love with you and your dick and just stalk you until they realize you used to be dead and are now supernaturally alive? Way too many bad case scenarios.”

“Keys,” Peter ordered.

Stiles gasped, clutching his keys to his chest. “No! I remember what you did to my baby last time.”

“I’ll drive you home.”

Stiles shook his head but handed over the keys. “Don’t hurt her.” Peter rolled his eyes. Stiles’ emotions were all over the place once they got inside of the car. “But really, we should fuck,” Stiles repeated. “I just want you for your dick. And you need someone to help break this dry spell. Though I really don’t get how you’re having a dry spell. Have you seen your face?”

Peter smiled at his reflection in the mirror. “Yes.”

“Yes we should fuck…?”

“No,” Peter replied easily. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Fine,” Stiles sighed. He readjusted himself through his pants, and Peter nearly slapped him.

“Stop touching yourself.”

“Dude,” Stiles whined, “I was supposed to go home with someone, not get tucked into bed.”

“And I wasn’t supposed to play good pack elder,” Peter bit back.

Stiles shook his head. “Then don’t.” He spread his legs farther apart. “I’m just saying, I’m available.”

“You’re seventeen.”

“It’s for a good cause.” Stiles started stroking himself through his jeans, and Peter had to remind himself that Stiles was only seventeen. Barely seventeen. Still nearly eleven months away from eighteen. Though Peter wasn’t counting. He was just well informed.

The reminder of Stiles’ age worked as the exact opposite of a deterrent.

Peter took the next right, veering away from Stiles’ house. The sheriff couldn’t possibly work all hours of the night. And Peter was not going to be seen dropping off a glitter-covered, drunk, sexually frustrated underage boy. Instead he drove to the seedy apartment he was staying at. Unlike Derek, he could not stand to live in a musty train station or a burnt house. He had died in that house. Twice. No need to go back there now.

Once inside the dimly lit bedroom, Stiles turned around in a circle. “Fancy. Really pulling out all the stops.” He kicked the stained carpet before flopping backward onto the bed.

Peter eyed his laptop. Stiles had asked him about having sex with him yesterday—while sober—and while Peter had shrugged him off, he still went ahead and researched the laws about the age of consent. But if he was going to do this, he would need to clear his browser history, just in case. This wouldn’t be the worst thing Peter had ever done, but the sheriff might not agree.

Peter stepped out of his shoes. While Peter had been busy justifying his decision, Stiles had already shimmied out of his clothes. Stiles was still in his boxers, but he took those off as well. Peter paused in front of the bed. The lipstick on Stiles’ face stood out even more. Peter unzipped his pants, motioning for Stiles to come closer as he took out his cock. Stiles’ lips wrapped around it, hand going to the base as he moved his head. Peter’s hands went to either side of Stiles’ head, guiding it. The lipstick looked obscene, and Peter brushed a thumb against Stiles’ lips, smearing the lipstick even more. His hand stayed there for a couple of minutes, but when Peter pressed his thumb inside Stiles’ mouth, Stiles coughed, choking on spit, and pulled back. Peter raised an eyebrow. This had been _Stiles’_ idea after all.

“What?” Stiles wiped off the spit covering his mouth with his hand, smearing the lipstick. “Most people don’t try shoving their hands inside my mouth while their dick is already down my throat,” Stiles huffed.

“Most people?” Peter’s mouth quirked up in a smirk.

“Fine, the few people,” Stiles groaned.

“Well, we can fix that.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

Stiles had stopped paying attention, more intent to find where Peter kept his lube. However, Peter actually used the bedside drawer as a place for clothes, and all Stiles found was shirts and pants. Peter eyed Stiles’ backside as he took off his own clothes and placed them inside the bathroom, returning with the lube Stiles was so desperately searching for.

“Here.”

Peter tossed the lube onto bed. Stiles poured some onto his fingers before rolling onto his stomach and knees. Peter watched as Stiles reached behind himself to press a finger inside. Nothing but the little noises Stiles was making filled the room for a few minutes. Stiles moved his head onto its side, eyes darting over Peter before settling on his face.

“You look really creepy,” Stiles sighed. “Just standing there,” Stiles’ breath hitched, “and watching.”

Peter reminded himself that he had done much worse things. Having sex with an underage teenager—an underage teenager begging to be fucked—couldn’t even compare to the horrors he committed. In fact, Peter was being quite kind and quite generous, he reminded himself, as he poured some lube onto his own fingers. He pulled Stiles’ fingers away and replaced them with his own. Stiles whimpered, clenching before relaxing and bucking backward onto Peter’s fingers.

“There’s a good boy.”

Stiles squeaked. “Is this why you weren’t getting hit on?”

Peter quirked a finger. “Hm?”

“Were they all leaving you alone because of your awful lack of normality?” Peter pressed a finger down, smiling when Stiles let out a slew of cuss words. “Oh fuck,” Stiles groaned as he pressed his face into the pillow. “I think I have a daddy kink.”

Peter pushed a third finger inside. “You’re barely realizing this now? I was under the impression it was the whole reason you wanted me to fuck you.”

“Mhm,” Stiles hummed. “Probably. You are pretty old.”

Peter removed his fingers. While Stiles half whined and half laughed, Peter slicked his cock. Rather than giving Stiles a fair warning, he pushed it inside.

“Hey!” Stiles’ body tightened up at the unexpected intrusion. “Couldn’t warn me?” Stiles pushed himself up, grabbing the headboard before looking over his shoulder. Peter waited patiently before Stiles let out a huff. “Any day now.”

Peter took his time pushing all the way inside, enjoying Stiles’ complaints. He slowly pulled out before slamming back inside. Stiles shouted, hands tightening on the headboard. It wasn’t designed to take this much stress, and it kept banging against the wall in a rhythm while Peter fucked Stiles. Hopefully the people living on the other side of the wall wouldn’t complain. Stiles’ Jeep was parked just outside, and it wouldn’t be that difficult to figure out what exactly had been happening inside of the room.

Stiles reached down, stroking his cock. He really was a pretty thing. He probably could find someone better than Peter to go home with, if he made more of an effort.

Peter dug his fingers into Stiles’ sides and fucked him harder. Stiles came with a shout, sinking down into the pillows. Peter kept rutting into Stiles, hands pressed onto Stiles’ sides to keep him in place. Stiles whimpered, more from pain than pleasure, and Peter finally came. Stiles’ muscles still clenching around his cock as Peter slid out.

“Well, that could’ve gone better,” Peter sighed. The headboard had left a dent on the wall, and a teenage boy was covered in come in Peter’s bed. Both things had not been on tonight’s plans. While Stiles tried to remember how to breathe, Peter went back into the bathroom to shower. Scott would panic as soon as he smelled Peter on Stiles. However, Scott preferred to voice his complaints about Peter to Derek. Peter pulled out his phone.

_TO Derek: I pounded out a 17 year old on Saturday night_

_TO Derek: No, that is not a typo_

_TO Derek: I turned him down on Fri night, googled the state consent laws & then caved on Saturday _

Now when Scott went to berate Derek for Peter’s actions, it would appear less like Peter forcefully coerced Stiles. Though Derek might not see it like that. Peter shrugged. If Derek saw this as something other than Peter getting an easy lay, then Derek would need to be reminded why Peter was having difficulty finding someone to fuck in the first place. Peter’s options were severely limited.

As he let the water pour over him, Peter wondered if he should’ve left the Jeep down the street. It wasn’t directly in front of his apartment, but whether it was close or not, the sheriff would figure out where his son had run off to. But that was not a discussion Peter wanted to risk. When he got out of the shower, fully clothed, he noticed Stiles was still on the bed. Stiles smelled like a mixture of drinks, the smell of alcohol permeating through Stiles’ skin.

Peter tucked himself under the covers and turned off the light. When he said he wasn’t going to be anyone’s babysitter tonight, he had meant it. If Stiles had been smart, he would’ve fallen asleep _under_ the covers instead of naked and on top of them.

Peter woke up early in the morning, perplexed about how Stiles had wrapped himself up in a into a tangle of blankets. He nudged Stiles awake.

“Huh?” Stiles tried punching Peter, calming down only when he saw who it was. However, when he noticed he was naked under the blanket, he tried punching Peter again. “Where are my clothes?”

Peter gestured around the room. “Wherever you threw them.”

“Ugh! Not cool.” Stiles wrapped the blankets around his waist.

“You should probably shower if you don’t want Scott immediately figuring out what happened.”

“No, really?” Stiles grabbed his clothes around the room as he made his way to the bathroom. “This was a bad idea.”

Peter moved to the table and turned on his laptop. He still needed to delete his browser history. Derek wouldn’t bother touching it, but Isaac was sneaky and willing to help Scott. And Scott was always full of surprises. Derek might not reprimand him, but Scott would care.

“Well, it wasn’t the _worst_ idea you’ve come up with.”

Stiles scratched his face. “Dude, do I have glitter on my face?”

“And make up,” Peter replied.

Stiles groaned as he shut the door. Peter merely raised an eyebrow as his computer started up. The WIFI reception was awful, but it worked better here than at the Hale house or in a parking garage. It was a nice step up. Peter could hear Stiles muttering inside the shower.

Well, this wasn’t the first time someone thought Peter might be a bad decision.


End file.
